Showing posts with label Barry Hopkins. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Barry Hopkins. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 19, 2016

The Poetry of Time



I have a folder of Barry Hopkins articles clipped from The Wellington Advertiser. 
He is a wise observer of man and beast, sky and sod...

Upon a canvas made of years
Life pens verses; love’s smiles, hurt’s tears
Where page-on-page its haste endears
With numerals, each flitting bit
And looking back we come to see
How precious is the brevity
Of what we hold and then set free
To be the memory of it

Upon a stack of ills, bills, thrills
Black ink of night musters refills
Of morning light that brightly spills
Then drains into dusk-blue cajole
As youth learns truth; how we entrust
Our dream to time’s ultimate; dust
And yet it bears a sacred Must
Because this dust harbours a soul

Upon time’s give and taking ways
We scrawl as rise and falling days
Dawn clear then fade to distant haze
Where we gaze, amazed at the rhyme
Of clock-chimes tolling hour on hour
They break the bud and shake the flow’r
Back to the earth to birth spring’s bow’r
We call the poetry of Time

© Janet Martin

Saturday, August 2, 2014

Life's Saturdays





Life laughs at dreams sometimes it seems
What use to suffer it tight-lipped?
Sweeter to soften our schemes
Like mist above a meadow stripped

We cannot rule nature’s cajole
But nature, if we listen, love
Pours poetry into the soul
From spools wafted in heaven’s trove...

…to spill in utter disregard
Of dreams or well-laid garden plans
It threads through moments to the heart
Where soon its ether fabric spans

…a year of seasons while we gaze
At dreams adapting to Time’s skeins
Ah, wonder weaves life’s Saturdays
Too swiftly back to back, it seems


© Janet Martin

While walking through the garden I had to chuckle at how nature rearranges my well-laid 'winter-garden' plans. oh well, we enjoy what is blooming; not what we wish had grown or bloomed.

Isn't it remarkable how fast Saturdays come...and go?! Especially summer Saturdays. I enjoy this writer's weekly articles in The Wellington Advertiser and this week he wrote how time flies ever faster the older he gets. 
I think to combat this the only thing we can do is slow down and enjoy what is, not what we wish was.

Dear God, help us to remember You hold the skein from whence life's moments fall.
Remind us then to glean and give our best to one and all.
Amen

 Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Gal. 6:9